


Patience

by Mithen



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Blanket Fic, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-11
Updated: 2010-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim finds himself stranded on Delta Vega again--this time with a different Spock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience

Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship _Enterprise_ was experiencing a strong sense of _deja vu._ He tried to say something to the figure helping him walk--nearly carrying him, really--but had to stop because his teeth were chattering so hard he couldn't articulate. He could taste blood in his mouth and wasn't sure if it was from his chapped and cracked lips, or from injuries sustained fighting the drakoulias that had attacked them.

He opened his mouth again and yelled into the wind: "Cave! Over there!"

The figure nodded and followed his pointing finger.

Inside the cave there were still charred remains of the fire Kirk had warmed himself at long ago--nearly two years ago, he realized with some surprise. The figure let go of Kirk and Jim sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering. The _deja vu_ was just not going to go away, he thought as he looked up at the elegantly raised eyebrow of his second-in-command. "This is where I--where we--took shelter last time," he said.

Spock nodded calmly, then set about creating a fire. He was dressed in a heavy parka, unlike Kirk, shivering in his formal uniform. Kirk glared at him. "Why did _you_ come down to search for me?" he demanded as the fire glimmered into life, a wash of feeble warmth against his face. "The _Enterprise_ needs her First Officer!"

Spock didn't look at him. "I trust that you are not implying that Mr. Scott is not capable of commanding the _Enterprise_ capably."

"Not at all," Jim spluttered. "You know perfectly well he's--"

"I gave him the comm and I trust him to continue negotiations with the Romulans with his customary competence. I'm sure the issue of abandoning the previous negotiator on a frozen planet will be a matter 'on the table,' so to speak."

Jim couldn't help a wry chuckle at Spock's dry tone, hardly noticing that Spock had dodged the question of why _he_ had come looking for Jim. "I think the Romulans may well be forced to give up their claims to this system when he's done with them." He blew futilely on his numb hands, rubbing at them to try and get the blood circulating.

"Crude as their negotiation practices may be, the Romulans do have some claim to Delta Vega, considering they originally came from this system."

"Well, they need to make their claims through valid channels, not via brute force."

Spock's lower lip twitched very slightly. "Ah yes. Excellent advice from Captain James T. Kirk, well-known for his use of the 'valid channels."'

Kirk snorted. "Do as I say, not as I do, Spock."

"More excellent advice."

Silence fell after Spock's observation. Jim stared into the tiny fire, wishing it were stronger. So strange, to be back on Delta Vega after all this time. He glanced at Spock's face, limned by pale firelight. And how strange that he still didn't know his Vulcan First Officer as well as he knew the Vulcan with whom he had last shared this cave.

For the last two years, Spock had been capable, polite, efficient, and...not unfriendly to the rest of the crew. Distant and self-sufficient, he remained an enigma to his captain, even though they had saved each others' lives a score of times and more. Jim trusted Spock with his life, and he believed Spock felt the same way. And yet...

Jim couldn't even pinpoint the moment when Spock's relationship with Uhura had ended. It wasn't like they had ever been demonstrative lovers, so it wasn't that they ever began to act differently toward each other. No, they were always professional, friendly, and even affectionate...and then Uhura had picked up with that handsome guy in Botany and it was clear she wasn't with Spock anymore. Jim had gone over the last two years in his head over and over, trying to find the point at which the split had happened, but it seemed as gradual and as natural as the change in seasons back on Earth, no arbitrary date to mark the true moment winter shifted into spring or spring bloomed into summer.

Jim huffed out a breath that glowed white in the cold air. And why was he so obsessed with figuring out the mystery of Spock and Uhura's relationship, anyway? He must just be annoyed that there was never a clear moment when he could have had a chance with Uhura. Not that she would have been interested, he thought a bit glumly. She wasn't the kind of woman for whom a sudden promotion would turn a guy from a loser to a catch.

But she wasn't available anyway, not anymore. And Spock was single. And Jim knew little more about him than when they had first met. If Jim didn't know better, he would have said the Vulcan was totally devoid of intense emotion, incapable of feeling any spark of passion whatsoever. But he knew that wasn't true. Not because of that kiss he had seen between Spock and Uhura. No, that had been sweet and gentle and yearning, but hardly passionate. But Jim Kirk knew Spock felt passion.

He knew because he remembered the look in Spock's eyes as his fingers locked around Jim's throat: primal, chaotic, dark with pain and fear, a tangled knot of things Jim still couldn't unravel, years later. He'd wake up sometimes from a dream of Spock's hands on him again, Spock's voice hoarse with violent emotion, feeling his breath catching in his throat, panting for air...

"Captain." The fire swam in Jim's vision, blurrily. "Captain, I do not believe you should fall asleep. The fire is not sufficient warmth."

Spock's voice sounded almost worried, and Jim nearly smiled through his exhaustion and grogginess. "You must be even colder than I am."

"Vulcans are able to withstand much greater shifts in temperature than humans, as you are well aware." Spock said stiffly. "I am perfectly fine." There was a tiny crease between his eyebrows as he looked at Jim. "You, however, need more warmth." He unfastened his parka. "Come here."

"You keep the parka, Spock. That's an order."

Spock's look was cooler than the frigid air between them. "I had no intention of relinquishing the parka, Captain." Carefully, he laid down on his back near the fire. "Come here," he said again.

"Uh, Spock, I'm not--"

Spock's exasperated look was one of the most emotional Jim had seen from him in years. "It is illogical to let you freeze to death. We will share this parka and keep warm together until Mr. Scott can beam us up."

His tone was curt and clipped, but his eyebrows were still pinched with something like worry; slowly, Jim got down on the ground as well. Awkwardly, he edged closer to the Vulcan, until Spock reached out, grabbed him by the sleeve, and dragged him close with a brusque efficiency that Jim found oddly reassuring. The parka was fastened up behind him, leaving the two of them snugly wrapped together, Jim's head on Spock's shoulder. Spock put his arms to his sides and after some awkward jostling, the two subsided into a relatively comfortable position.

It was less cold this way, Jim had to admit, although he was having a hard time relaxing. Spock's body was all angles and muscle, as tense as Jim's own, inflexible. Yet as the worst of the cold eased from frozen muscles Jim found the tension going out of his body slowly, almost imperceptibly. The low crackling of the fire was the only sound for a while.

"You stayed in this cave with...the older version of myself, the last time you were stranded here?"

Jim nodded; his chin bumped the other man's chest. "After he shared his memories with me--" he started, but Spock went rigid at the words and he broke off. He hadn't realized Spock had relaxed too until he suddenly wasn't anymore.

"Shared his memories with you? You never mentioned a meld in the official reports." There was an edge to Spock's voice that Jim couldn't read.

"I didn't think it was necessary. It was...personal," Jim said defensively.

"How personal?" Spock's tone was mild and level again, but Jim still felt that somehow they were on dangerous ground.

"He...shared his reaction to the destruction of Vulcan. It was...intense." There was a short silence. "He's different from you," Jim said.

"Naturally, given the differences in age and experience."

"That's not quite what I mean. He was...I felt such strong emotion in the link, shared freely. You're much more--" He groped for how to make it a neutral statement, "--controlled."

Spock didn't answer for a time. "Ambassador Spock has learned to experience and express deep emotion without it...breaking him," he said at last.

"You don't seem that...breakable," Jim observed.

Spock's arms twitched slightly, almost imperceptibly, the merest tremor. "I don't," Spock said, his tone caught oddly between a statement and a question. He didn't elaborate on it.

Jim let it drop, and silence fell again. After a moment, Spock said, "Captain, are you falling asleep?"

"Um? No, not at all," Jim said hastily, pulled back from a reverie of warmth.

"You should stay awake," Spock said severely.

"Well, you're not being very entertaining company," Jim snapped. "Tell me a story or something."

"A story?"

"Yeah. You know, like...what kind of pet you had as a boy. Do Vulcans have pets, or is that illogical?"

A short silence. "I had a pet _sehlat._ I-Chaya. When some boys teased me about my...origins, I ran away into the desert to begin my _kahs-wan,_ my test of maturity, early. I-Chaya accompanied me. When I was attacked by a wild animal, he saved me, but was seriously injured. When I was rescued, I had to choose whether to let him live in pain, or die with mercy."

Jim blinked. "That's a hard thing to make a kid choose."

"It was my responsibility, my error," Spock said. "I chose mercy." The fire crackled quietly for a little while. "I never had another pet."

Jim cleared his throat. "Spock, has anyone ever told you that you tell crap bedtime stories?"

"There have been...few opportunities," Spock said flatly. "Your turn."

"What?"

"I believe it is customary in human communication to reciprocate a story told with a similar story. Thus, you should share a story of a pet at this juncture."

It was almost warm now. Jim resisted a sudden impulse to wrap his arms around Spock's torso for maximum warmth. "Never had one," he said shortly.

"What about Siegfried?" Spock sounded a bit sleepy himself.

"Siggy?" Jim chuckled. "Ah, Siggy was the neighbors' husky, not mine. They let me play with him, but--" He broke off. "Hey, wait a minute." Spock had gone even stiller than usual. "How do you know about Siegfried?"

Spock cleared his throat slightly. "Well," he said. Jim waited for more, but Spock didn't appear to be continuing.

"Well?" A horrible thought struck him. "Spock...you're not in touch with my mother, are you?" Silence. "Are you?" No answer. _"Spock?"_

Another throat-clearing. "Your mother contacted me first," he said, his voice almost defensive.

"What? When?"

"About a month after you took command of the _Enterprise._ She was...worried about you. She said you didn't write enough."

Jim groaned. _"Mom._"

"Your mother is a fascinating woman," Spock noted.

_"Geez."_ Jim involuntarily went to slap his forehead and instead whacked his face against Spock's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Spock. That was seriously out of line on her part."

"Actually, I..." Spock paused. "I have come to look forward to her communications. She and my mother would have liked each other very much, I think." His voice was ever so slightly wistful.

"Well." Jim's brain reeled as he tried to encompass the horrific thought of his mother and First Officer conspiring against him. "Have you ever even met her?"

"I have not had the pleasure."

"I suspect I might want to keep the two of you on separate sides of the galaxy. You both are nothing but trouble."

"Why, Captain," said Spock, in that special variety of bland that Jim knew indicated he was teasing, "I am only concerned about maintaining the efficiency of my commanding officer."

"By weaseling childhood tales out of my mother?" Jim was having a hard time keeping the laughter out of his outraged tone.

"Believe me, sir, there were no 'weasels' involved." A pause. "Though she did send a photograph of you as an infant wearing some kind of totemic rodent ears..."

Jim choked, remembering the photo with nightmare clarity. Mickey Mouse ears...and nothing else! _"Mom!"_ His anguished cry rang around the cave. Without thinking, he whacked at Spock's chest, wrestling at him in mixed laughter and horror until Spock twisted easily under him and caught him closer, making further depredations impossible. Jim glared at his First Officer, whose eyes crinkled infinitesimally at the corners: for Spock, the equivalent of roaring with laughter. Jim caught his breath suddenly and looked away.

"Are you warm enough now, Captain?"

"You're evil, Spock," Jim muttered. But it was true, the exertion and embarrassment had warmed Jim nicely. He took a long breath, forcing himself to relax. One of his legs was still caught between Spock's in an impromptu leg-lock; Jim decided he didn't want to remind Spock of the fact by trying to get out of it. Muscle by muscle, he let the tension go out of his body, his thoughts drifting. He was warm. He was safe. He was...

It was the dream again, he realized distantly as he felt the blood pounding in his ears once more, almost deafening: the flashback to that moment on the bridge. He was fighting for breath, and strong hands were on him, Spock's hands, his eyes blazing with something like fury, something... Kirk tried to get his hands up and felt hard muscle under them, dug his hands into it and pushed hard against it, feeling a jolt of sensation so strong he gasped, pushing again...

"Jim," said a voice, like Spock's but hoarse. _"Jim_."

He snapped into full consciousness aware abruptly of several things at once. One was that he was hard, erect and pushing against the warm thighs beneath him. Another was that he was stammering a name out loud. And the third was that the "flashback" dream was not a flashback at all, and not a dream of violence. At all.

Horrified, panicked, he almost struggled to free himself from the confining parka rather than face Spock's reaction to his captain humping his leg like a dog. "Jim," Spock said again, and Jim froze at the roughness in his tone. Involuntarily, he glanced up and met Spock's eyes.

There was no disgust there, no contempt. Spock's breath was coming fast and Jim realized he could feel his heart hammering, faster than any human pulse. His eyes were dark with emotion that didn't touch the rest of his face, but was naked and clear and anguished and beautiful. "Jim," Spock repeated, his voice flatter than Jim had ever heard it before, "Are you _trying_ to break me?"

"You're too strong for that," Jim said without thinking, wanting only to ease the pain in his friend's eyes. "You're too--"

In a swift, fluid motion, Spock shrugged his arms out of the parka sleeves and caught Jim's face in his hands, his long, cool fingers as light as moonlight. Then he brought his mouth to Jim's, and it was anything but cool, and anything but light.

Jim Kirk had kissed a lot of people in his life--a lot more since he had become captain of the _Enterprise_ and discovered confidence was more attractive than bluster--but none of them were anything like this. This was a battle to see who would gasp first, who would moan louder, and Jim had no idea who was winning or losing and he found he didn't care. He slid his hands along corded muscle, savoring the satin strength of it, and Spock groaned.

"How long did you intend to wait for me to stop being an idiot?" Jim whispered into one perfect ear.

"Vulcan training emphasizes patience in all things," Spock said, his voice as calm and clinical as if he were discussing tricorder readings, even as his hidden hands were doing wickedly innovative things under Jim's dress uniform. "From all indications, it could have been a much longer wait."

"Insubordinate Vulcan." Jim nipped an upswept curve, very gently, and Spock muttered something in Vulcan that didn't sound clinical at all. "Might I suggest that it is only logical we find a way to both keep warm and distract ourselves while we wait for rescue?"

Spock looked gravely into Jim's eyes. "That sounds entirely logical, Captain," he said.

Then he kissed him again.


End file.
